Personal Heaven
by kkingofthebeach
Summary: Dean and Cas get roped into a game of 7 Minutes in Heaven - and what do you expect from two horny teenagers in a confined space?


They're in Jo's basement playing 7 Minutes in Heaven, and it feels like Dean has stepped back into an awkward party from when he was only thirteen years old. The difference being, everyone is pretty drunk and there's actually a real party still going on outside of their little circle. It's a _bad_ idea – Dean knows it, Jo knows it, every goddamn person playing knows it – and that's the only reason they're playing in the first place.

Jo comes out of the closet with pink cheeks and ruffled hair, Adam Milligan trailing behind her with a sheepish smile, and then it's Dean's turn. He downs the rest of his beer before reaching for the bottle in the middle, giving it a hard spin. Nerve wracking seconds drag by as the bottle spins and spins, Dean staring at it and praying that it will be someone he can work with, someone attractive but not too good of a friend to make it weird.

The bottle slows down and everyone's eyes are locked on it, waiting to see who Dean's about to be locked up with. When it comes to a wobbly stop, Dean looks up and his mouth falls open.

Castiel.

His best friend stares back at him before glancing down at the bottle once more to check that it's definitely pointing at him, that it won't sway another few inches to the right and direct Dean to Lisa instead. But it doesn't move, and neither does Castiel.

Nobody speaks when Dean gets to his feet and jokingly wiggles his eyebrows at Cas, and then he's walking over to the closet and stepping inside, heart practically beating in his throat. It's a few seconds until Cas stumbles inside, and Dean catches sight of Cas' older sister, Anna, shoving him from behind unceremoniously. The door shuts and there's a click of the lock as the key turns from the outside, and now they're on the clock.

Cas has moved to the back of the closet, his back pressed against the wall, and he's looking just over Dean's shoulder to avoid his eye. It's dark, but Dean can still see the way his hair is sticking out more than usual after being manhandled, and sometime during the party Cas had undone a couple more of buttons on his shirt.

This really isn't how Dean wanted to admit his little crush on Cas – or more accurately, his huge fucking infatuation with his best friend. It's never been as painfully present as right now though, because Dean usually shoos it away by telling himself it's _not_ happening. But they're locked in a small cupboard, they've both been drinking, and Dean has never wanted to kiss anyone so badly.

He doesn't jump on Cas like he wants to though, because it's not fair on either of them. Not when it will just shift the dynamic of their friendship to something very awkward.

"What do you wanna do?" Dean asks, because that's safe, he's letting Cas find a way out of the mess they've got themselves into. But Cas only frowns at Dean, his eyebrows pulling together.

"Well the general idea is to kiss, grope – anything in seven minutes." Dean swallows a lump in his throat, because now Cas is just trying to torture him.

"We don't have to kiss," Dean says, and it pains him to say it and he wants to kick himself, but he does it anyway.

Cas stays quiet for a moment, still standing on the opposite side to Dean, as far away as he can get. Then he says something that Dean is _sure_ he imagines.

"What if I want to kiss you?" He asks shyly, and Dean gapes like a fish.

"W-what?"

Cas takes a step forwards, until he's only inches away from Dean, his mouth dangerously close to Dean's as he speaks quietly. "Can I kiss you?"

Dean can't form the words, just licks his lips and tilts his head a little, and Cas reaches up to press a chaste kiss to his mouth before he retreats back to the far end of the closet. Dean can still feel the sensation of his touch, and he wants more. He's had a taste and he won't give it up, he wants to _take take take_.

Dean moves in to crowd Cas in the corner, covering his body and pushing him back up against the wall as he ghosts over Cas' lips. They've wasted at least two minutes tiptoeing around each other, and he's not planning on wasting any more. Dean's hands are firm on Cas' waist when he crushes their mouths together, moving fast and messy, their lips moving roughly until Dean can slide his tongue inside and lick into Cas' mouth. He tastes like cheap beer and traces of the joint he'd smoked an hour ago, and Dean can't get enough of any of it.

Dean shoves up Cas' shirt so he can get his hands on skin, and his fingers are pressing in so hard that he's sure there'll be bruises after they're done. Cas pushes himself into Dean and is so open for him, letting Dean lick at the roof of his mouth and bite at his lip and scrape his nails across the small of his back.

Dean is hard and straining against his jeans when he moves to Cas' neck, sucking reddening marks in a trail from his collarbone all the way up to his jaw. Cas just grips onto his shoulders and makes quiet, breathy little noises, his eyes falling shut with a moan as Dean bites at the juncture of his throat and shoulder.

_Three minutes left!_ somebody shouts from outside.

Dean grinds into Castiel, and both of their breaths come out in a rush at the contact. He returns to Cas' mouth and kisses him hard as he pushes his hips in small circles against Cas. He feels ridiculous and juvenile, trying desperately to get off as quick as possible, rutting in his clothes with his tongue flicking into his best friend's mouth. But he doesn't have the capacity to care, not when Cas is clawing at his back and mewling and smiling around Dean's mouth.

"Dean," he pants, his hips bucking when Dean pulls him even closer with a rough tug. "Dean, I need you – I need _more_."

Dean thinks he could come in his pants purely from the debauched state Castiel is in, his lips pink and kiss-bitten, face and neck flushed, eyes half-closed and his pupils blown big and black. He nods and hurriedly hooks one under Cas' leg, bring it up around his waist so they can slot together better.

"You look so good like this, baby, so desperate for it," Dean babbles, words falling out of his mouth as he thrusts hard and groans harder. "Come on, come for me, angel, _come_."

Cas' mouth opens around a silence shout, his body tensing up as he shudders in Dean's hold, and Dean can't help but imagine how that mouth would look around his cock, and with a few more thrusts that's all it takes for Dean for go over the edge with a jerk, patches of white making his vision blotchy as he goes boneless. He lets his forehead drops against Cas' and he stumbles backwards to the wall behind him so he can keep Cas from falling straight to the floor.

"We should find another closet," Cas says, his voice still low and blissed out. Dean huffs out a laugh and catches him in another kiss, ignoring the mess in his underwear for now.

That's when the closet wall opens up behind Dean – because it's not the wall, it's the door, and Jo is yanking it open and has them tumbling out and onto the floor in a heap. She's frozen with the key still in her hand, and she looks from the empty closet to Cas and Dean, still wrapped up in each other.

"You fucking assholes, I'm gonna have to air this closet out now."


End file.
